


only with clear eyes (do I want you to look at me)

by OldMagpie (MagpieMorality)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Sexual Assault, Breakfast, Clothed Sex, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drug Withdrawal, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Halloween, M/M, Sexual Content, Simple Acts Of Heroism, They could never be anything but soulmates, Treading the fine line towards magical healing cock, Unnamed OMC is the one doing the drugging, not exactly a meet cute, poetic sex scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27384553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagpieMorality/pseuds/OldMagpie
Summary: Joe wakes up when someone nearby shifts and lets out a tiny groan. It takes a moment for consciousness to filter back, the memories of the night filling in the blanks between leaving to go to the club and waking up with a stranger in his bed.Except not really a stranger. He doesn't know the poor guy's name, sure, but Joe knows who he is. How he ended up in Joe's bed this grey November first.In which Joe helps but still doesn't think he's done enough, and Nicky thinks he's a hero.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 18
Kudos: 280





	only with clear eyes (do I want you to look at me)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings are there in the tags but for clarity (and because it's not really a spoiler) this fic revolves around Nicky being drugged at a club by a stranger with intent to harm. That is as far as it gets but there is a lot of thinking about it afterwards. Be safe!

Joe wakes up when someone nearby shifts and lets out a tiny groan. It takes a moment for consciousness to filter back, the memories of the night filling in the blanks between leaving to go to the club and waking up with a stranger in his bed.

Except not really a stranger. He doesn't know the poor guy's name, sure, but Joe knows who he is. How he ended up in Joe's bed this grey November first.

* * *

When Joe had locked up behind himself at eleven-something the night before, jacket zipped up to his neck and a nice light buzz from a couple beers at home all keeping him warm in the cold Amsterdam air, he hadn't had a clue what the night would hold. The moon was already out and so were the students, roaming around with loud voices and wild outfits, browsing the bars and clubs on offer like butterflies searching for the right flower to land on for the night. Joe'd known his own destination already; a loud and large nightclub slightly removed from the central streets that would be busy as all fuck on Halloween. He'd cycled, because he wasn't yet drunk and it would be a bitch to walk back at whatever time of the morning, locking his bike a few streets away by an apartment block and strolling around to get in the queue.

The beat inside had hooked him in like a fish on a line and the air had tasted of possibility. It was a well-known queer venue, but not specifically gay, so the room was filled with presentations all over the vast and wondrous spectrum of gender, mixing and mingling under the bright lights and heavy bass lines.

Joe had shared a few drinks with some friends he'd bumped into, and then ducked out to go and dance, flitting around between people and partners for a while thinking of nothing but the joy of getting his heart-racing. Later he would start to consider his options; perhaps pick someone up or let himself be picked up, or call it a night and retreat to his friends and then back home for a good night's rest.

When he'd taken a break, letting the flow of the crowd carry him off the dance floor, the bar had been busy and hard to reach. It had its own currents, a club this full, and he revelled in the atmosphere of being pressed in against on all sides, surrounded by life, people watching while he slowly drifted forwards in line.

In a sense, despite the hour, the night was still young when he first spotted the guy. Dressed more normally than some but with an artfully painted skull over his face that accentuated his big, pale eyes and broad smile. The only reason Joe even looked at him for more than a passing glance was because of the way he was slumping against the bar, his smile slightly too loose. He'd taken a second look because of the way that the man he was talking to was holding pale-eyes' hand tightly around the guy's own drink, lifting his hand and glass up to help him drink it while they talked. It wasn't that alarming in and of itself really, but Joe's instincts still didn't like the way pale-eyes looked surprised every time the glass met his lips, or how he was slowly sliding down the bar he was leaning on.

Fighting the current, Joe had hung back, letting others in front of him to order, and watched the pair a bit longer. Pale-eyes had started blinking, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them wide to dart around without really seeing, looking as though he was struggling considerably with focusing. He didn't look good, that was for sure. His loose smile had slipped away into uncertainty at one point, sending Joe's stomach sharply downwards, and he'd said something, lifting a hand and trying to push himself away from the bar. His partner had laughed and stopped him. Joe had tensed but watched as the partner quickly let him free after another pleading expression, leaving the drink behind and following pale-eyes away as the guy fought his way through the throng of people, stumbling towards the smoking area.

There was definitely something wrong, Joe had thought with a frown.

Hackles fully raised and glad he hadn't had more to drink yet; Joe had followed them. He'd tried to be subtle, casting about when he stepped out into the brisk air, searching for the pair. The partner had been just disappearing around a corner and Joe had followed quickly, finding a spot to lean against a wall nearby and just keep an ear and eye out. It could be totally fine, pale-eyes could have drunk a bit too much too fast and the partner could be an attentive boyfriend, but just in case…

Whatever was happening the two of them apparently made up. And made out, if Joe's faintly ringing ears were to be trusted, because he could hear soft moans and the odd little whimpering sound, muffled between mouths. He had just been considering going back inside and leaving them to it when they'd stopped. Their conversation was in accented English, easy to listen in on, and it seemed the partner was not a boyfriend but a new fling; wanting pale-eyes to leave with him.

Several more alarm bells had joined the others in Joe's head when pale-eyes mumbled a less-than-enthusiastic reply that Joe couldn't make out the words of, only the tone, and the partner- though maybe predator would be more accurate- had just spoken over him. When he'd chanced a glance around the corner at them the creep had wound an arm around pale-eyes waist and was pulling him off the wall confidently even though pale-eyes could barely keep his legs steady, a hand braced to keep him away from the creep's chest.

He had to help. But was it his place? What if he was wrong, even with everything he'd seen? _No_ , Joe had reminded himself firmly, shadowing them again, trying to keep them in sight through the club; better to be wrong and offend than let someone get hurt when he could have prevented it.

Pale-eyes was still mumbling, his hand weakly moving against the creep's shirt, trying to hold it with his head drooping lower and lower, and Joe had figured that was plenty far enough for him to let things get before stepping in.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he'd snapped, rounding the corner. The creep had stared at Joe in surprise and then melted into a charming smile.

"Just celebrating Halloween, what's it look like?" the guy had said. Joe had strode up and grabbed him by the arm, patience gone. He'd yanked him away from pale-eyes, who was unfortunately dragged along by the predator's own tight grip, and who went tumbling down onto the floor with a soft yelp. " _Hey_ man, what the fuck?!"

"He's not okay to go anywhere, asshole. Give it up." Joe had hissed back. "Get the fuck out before I call the police."

The creep had glared, but gave in with a roll of his eyes, vanishing inside. Joe had made a mental note while he watched him go to give his description to the bouncers asap. But first he needed to help the poor guy on the ground. Pale-eyes had been trembling when he reached him, a combination of cold, pain and probably whatever drugs were in his system. Joe hadn't really wanted to touch him, not when he was in shock, but what else could he do?

"Hey, it's okay, I'm Joe," he'd murmured, trying to soothe pale-eyes. He'd crouched, helping the guy up with gentle hands, giving him support without trapping him against his own body. Pale-eyes had blinked at him blearily, squinting to focus.

"I-" he'd begun, but that was as far as he'd got, just blinking and swaying slightly in Joe's grasp.

"Do you have friends here? Can I call someone?"

Pale-eyes had blinked again, slower, and shook his head. He'd slumped forwards, forehead dropping onto Joe's shoulder. "Just me," he'd sighed.

So just like that he had become Joe's responsibility.

"Hey, I'm gonna take you home okay?" he'd explained, regardless of whether or not pale-eyes would remember. It was the gesture that mattered. "I don't think it's safe for you to stay here. Do you have a phone, can I call an Uber for you?"

Pale-eyes had just raised his head and started to lick his lips, looking very dazed. Joe had just sighed. "Okay this is going to… This is going to come across really badly but I think I'm gonna take you back to mine? It's not far, I'll sleep on the couch, but you'll be safe. Just… I don't think you can even really say yes right now so I'm really sorry. I hope you can forgive me in the morning?" He'd smiled weakly and pale-eyes had managed to look at him for a full second before his eyes had fluttered closed on another long blink. That would have to be good enough.

Leaving the club had been surprisingly easy, enough to send a shiver down Joe's spine. If he hadn't-

Pale-eyes had leaned into him while his thoughts were spiraling, and he'd held him a little tighter while he'd explained things to the bouncers, hoping he'd done enough. He'd looked at the man in his arms. If he'd managed to help this one guy then that was already an achievement, he'd decided.

They'd got back quickly enough, leaving Joe's bike behind for another time. Pale-eyes had hung off him while they'd walked, and needed a considerable amount of help to make it without collapsing, but Joe had barely noticed the effort, too focused on getting the poor guy to a nice, warm bed where he could sleep the whole horrible situation off.

As he lies in bed in the morning he thinks about how heartbreaking pale-eyes' confusion and fear had been when Joe had tried to leave him in his bedroom after washing his face clear and getting him to eat some bread. His hand, shooting out to try and grab Joe, had only been soothed back under the covers by promises that Joe would be back with more water.

Joe had fully intended to sleep on the couch but pale-eyes had given him the most devastating little whimper and started to shiver, his teeth chattering, begging in a hoarse whisper for 'help'. So he'd climbed in, fully clothed apart from his shoes, and had held him tight while the drugs worked their way through his system, peaking about two hours later and leaving pale-eyes exhausted and limp, damp against Joe from sweating it out. And Joe had passed out before he could even think to move, his own deep, slow breathing joining pale-eyes' shallower rhythm into sleep.

He really hoped pale-eyes would forgive him.

Outside his apartment, through the tiny grate at the top of his bedroom window, a child shrieks. It startles pale-eyes awake, enough for him to flail in confusion, tangling himself in the duvet. Joe helps him free, keeping quiet while the man comes to, waiting to let him figure it out slowly without pushing too fast.

* * *

Nicky wakes unexpectedly to the sound of kids playing outside. He's not used to the sound, and once he finishes fighting the blankets imprisoning him he moves, leaning across the other body in the bed to peer out of the window, thoughts mostly just a blur.

He sees an unfamiliar parking lot, two toddlers running around in bright clothes, and then hears the hitch of breath from behind and below him.

With a sharp enough movement to make him wince, he whips his head around, staring at the beautiful man he's just crawled over and unceremoniously straddled, after waking up beside him.

Wait a second. He frowns, easing away from the window. The guy gives him a sleepy, sheepish smile and rubs his face, opening his mouth and then choosing not to say whatever he was going to say. Nicky is very confused. He remembers going out, then being at the bar, and having drinks with a handsome and confident blond, and then… nothing, really. Vague impressions of something that makes his heart race but nothing concrete.

"What," he croaks, shifting his weight to the side and letting himself fall to the mattress, one leg still hooked over the man in bed with him. Nicky takes stock, thinking he feels more dreadful than he has in a long time. He's slightly itchy, his t-shirt kinda smells and he's in his boxers and for some reason- socks. His hair is gross, but the other man doesn't seem to be put off. He's turning his head on the pillow to look at Nicky, hands carefully up behind his head (which gives a frankly mouth-watering view of his arms that Nicky tables to think about later, when this is all sorted out), and he smiles. "What happened? Where am I?"

"You uh," the man starts, wincing. "You're at my place. I brought you home from the club last night. You weren't so good, I think someone spiked your drink."

Nicky knows he's staring, but what other response is there. The man hurries on, filling in the silence. "It was shitty of me to bring you here but I didn't know your address, or how to call your friends. We didn't- I mean I didn't touch you, not like that, I swear. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Um," Nicky croaks, feeling a little lost and a little hysterical. "Someone drugged me?"

"Yeah. He was a fucking creep, I mean what the fuck kind of _animal_ does shit like that?! Anyone who gets off on-"

"Thank you, but, sorry, just…" Nicky interrupts, not sure what he's asking for. He closes his eyes, bringing his hands up, and feels the twitch in the other man's body that tells him he wants to comfort Nicky. Nicky sits up before he can though, looking at him with alarm. "Wait, he didn't- before you got there he- he-" Nicky wheezes, watching with wide eyes to see if the man's face will give anything away. Instead his expression clears with relief and he shakes his head emphatically, loosening the iron band around Nicky's heart. He still wants to check, hand drifting to his own waist, but it's a little embarrassing and very nerve-wracking.

The man nods him on and he looks away as he slips his fingers into his boxers, relieved to note the absence of any kind of ache or pain that would indicate something much worse. His whole body relaxes in a rush and he tumbles down into the man's embrace, unashamedly clinging onto him, hugging him tight. He doesn't cry but it's a near thing, when warm arms bracket him and a face presses against the side of his head. He cups the back of the man's head and squeezes, trying to convey his gratitude, and his relief, and abandon his fear. The shock of it all is starting to set in and he can tell he's shaking a bit, apologising and thanking in equal measure, all the words mixing up in his mouth until it's just a stream of confused and very-not-calm Italian.

"You're welcome, you're so welcome, it's okay," his rescuer promises, shifting carefully to keep their hips from pressing too close. It's such a small, polite gesture that Nicky finally does burst into tears. He wishes he could remember the source of the fear unwinding from him but the not-knowing only makes it worse, and the tears grow louder.

The whole way through his rescuer holds him, laying patiently under him and not letting go except to briefly pull the duvet back up around Nicky's back, cocooning him in warmth and comfort. "Grazie, no wait; d-dank uw," he offers as his breathing settles down. The man chuckles.

"You're welcome, honestly. I'm so glad I could help."

"I think you saved me," Nicky tells him simply. "I know it's… I know it's not like, it is not the end of the world? But it would be…" He's dancing around the fear he doesn't want to voice and mercy of mercies the man lets him, silently hugging him tight.

They separate, but don’t go far, just enough to share the long pillow. Nicky keeps his hands up near his chest and the man- once they face each other on their sides, Nicky's leg sliding off the lovely warm body onto the mattress- puts one under the pillow and the other down on his own thigh. No more touching, and Nicky feels bereft. He wonders what the protocol is here, what he should say or do.

"I'll be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing," the man admits, voicing Nicky's own thoughts. "I was a little worried you would be… upset? At waking up here. I didn't want you to think I was just like that piece of shit back at the club, but I didn't know what else to do to make sure you were safe."

"I promise, I am not upset with _you._ "

"Oh, well. That's good. Oh I, wanted to ask- what's your name?"

"Nicky, and yours?"

"Joe."

"Hi Joe."

"Hi Nicky." They share shy grins from scant inches away, until they're interrupted by Nicky's stomach growling. He frowns at it while Joe laughs, proclaiming it past time for food. "You should have something sweet, for the-" his face twists. Nicky hates that expression on his face with all his heart and resolves to try and make sure it stays far away forevermore. "Well. Pancakes? I have some microwave ones, and stroop. Ah, syrup."

"That would be lovely, thank you," Nicky agrees quietly.

There's a moment where things shift between them, as Joe very briefly climbs over him. Nicky looks up and Joe looks down and time stands momentarily still for them to enjoy the way it feels, before Joe blushes and finishes his manoeuvre, nearly falling off the bed and grumbling to himself. He grins bashfully when Nicky loses control of his giggles, hurrying off out of the room and calling back through the apartment for Nicky to stay where he is for breakfast in bed or else. Nicky capitulates with a soft sigh, looking around. It's not a fancy room but it is nice, a big bed and a desk in the corner, shelves and art on the walls, things piled everywhere. The window brings lovely light in even on such a grey day and the view of the children playing and trees beyond, even in the city, is enjoyable enough to hold his attention away from other things for a while.

He's leaning his arms on the windowsill, chin propped up on them and duvet pooling at his waist, when Joe gets back with the food. He's brought a tray with coffee; a thing of milk; the pancakes and a bunch of toppings; and some fresh water too. Nicky's heart briefly swoons and he shuffles to let Joe into bed with him so they can share the pancakes on the plate. Joe cuts the first piece after they've haggled over the proper ratio of pancake to syrup, and then, with a quick, sly glance sideways, starts to move the forkful through the air. Nicky raises an eyebrow, before it clicks that Joe is making fucking _plane noises_ , and then the forkful is nearing his lips and he can barely hold still to take a mouthful around his laughter, chewing as he tries not to snort and embarrass himself.

Joe looks supremely proud, until Nicky returns the favour and then it's just an excuse to be ridiculous. The food gets onto Joe's sheets in the crossfire, but from the way Joe's face is lit up, eyes shining at him, Nicky doesn't think he minds.

"Hey, so you were way too out of it last night to really say anything, but did you need to call anyone?" Joe asks when the food tray is set aside and they're sat up against the headboard together, cupping their coffees. Nicky makes a face into his mug and shakes his head.

"No. Not because- that sounds very sad, but there is no one to worry. My friends were out as well, I live with people I don't really know. They would be worried if I said what had… had _not_ happened, thank you again, but they will not worry because I haven't called. But thank you."

"You thanking me in every second sentence is going to give me a hero complex, you know," Joe teases, allowing Nicky the out from that line of conversation with an ease and graciousness that has his hand clutching the mug tighter, toes curling happily down the bed.

"Well, you _are_ a hero. To me at least. I don't even know you, but you helped. Not just to make him leave, but to make me safe? I don't- was it bad, last night?" he wonders suddenly, looking at Joe with a stricken expression.

Joe purses his lips and takes a sip of his coffee- far too milky for Nicky's tastes but it has emerged that Joe has a considerable sweet tooth- before replying. "No. Well, for you I think it was. It looked pretty horrible, but you fell asleep while it was worst."

"What happened?" Nicky asks. "I want to know, if I can't remember."

He listens as Joe tells him, shoulders hunching in and legs moving like they want to curl up as well. Nicky wants to place a hand on them and settle them but he's frozen by the need to both know and not know.

"I told them what I could, so they could keep an eye out for him, but you weren't doing great so I wanted to get you back quickly," Joe says, shaking his head like he's disappointed in himself somehow, for doing everything he could. 

That's the last straw. Nicky puts his coffee on the windowsill beside him and turns, sitting on his side and placing a hand on Joe's forearm, offering what he can in support. The rest of the high and the comedown sound pretty unpleasant. "You just kept shivering. I don't know if he made it too strong or if the alcohol made it worse- I mean I don't even know what it was, really, but you were so miserable. You got so cold and then really hot- I had to get the blankets off and let you take your pants off so you would cool down. I'm sorry for that, your shirt would be better, but you were so sure and it looked more comfortable and I didn’t want to use the shower because-"

"Joe, _Joe_. Please, stop being angry at yourself for me, because I am not. I understand."

"But it felt-"

"I know, but trust me. Do you trust me?" Nicky asks. Joe nods, nearly spilling his coffee in his haste to turn and face Nicky. Nicky takes the mug and twists, setting it beside his own. When he turns back Joe is very close, but also still frowning, so he sets a hand on Joe's upper arm and strokes up and down, petting him like a startled animal. "I'm not going to say I'm okay. But you are not the cause of any of the not-okay. Okay? Ugh, too many okays…" he mutters. It draws a little snort from Joe at last. "That is much better. I like it when you smile."

Joe's eyes drop to his lips. Only for the tiniest of split seconds but Nicky is close by and watching so he catches it. He also catches the immediate spike of guilt that follows, which feels so wrong that he just has to fix it.

The kiss is chaste, hitting just under the corner of Joe's sad mouth, on the soft cushion of his beard. He clears all hints of nervousness from his face before looking up, offering Joe a calm smile that he can cling onto. Which he does, looking awed before he smiles back.

"Here," Nicky says, confidence boosted by the exchange. He hands Joe his coffee back and takes his own, but when they scoot back into place he leans sideways until he's pressed against Joe's side. _Do it_ , he thinks, inwardly cheering when Joe lifts his arm and welcomes Nicky under it.

They drink their coffees in a cosy quiet together, basking in the intimacy of shared private comfort.

When the mugs are empty they drink each other in instead, slowly and hesitantly, keeping their clothes on but feeling perfectly bare under each others' eyes and hands and mouths. They do it because it feels right, because Nicky wants to and Joe wants to and they laugh through their hesitance when considering all the reasons why not and discarding them one by one. Those thoughts have no place in bed with them, and Nicky breaks down Joe's hasty wall of uncertainty before he can get more than a few token protests out. It is Nicky's decision but it is also Joe's, and Joe willingly acquiesces to him, setting a precedent for a significant portion of the rest of their lives. Their legs tangle and touches wander, moving them around. Their unspoken favourite arrangement on Joe's bed is found by consensus when Joe sits on Nicky's thighs, sliding down, or rather up, when Nicky bends his knees upwards and gravity works its magic to push them closer together. Their fingers twine, first in the air and then on the bed on either side of Nicky's head. Joe teases, giving more than he gets from the position while there are still layers between them, or so Nicky thinks until he sees the hard proof of how affected Joe also is. It is equally as breathtaking when, after a few more twists and rolls to try out the rest of the options on offer, they return once again to their new default but this time Nicky hooks his legs on the outside and welcomes Joe between them. Joe bends, bracing his forearms beside Nicky's head where their joined hands had been, kissing him dizzy. Nicky drives Joe just as wild by brushing a knee up high over the slightly rough fabric of last-night's pants to nudge his waist, and then lifting the other to lock Joe’s body in place where he wants him, urging him on with his heels and calves and knees until the dizziness turns to stars turns to pure blank peace and the faint buzz of everything good all the way down to their bones. Exactly perfect, exactly as he'd wanted. From Joe's deep sigh he feels the same way.

"Pancakes?" Nicky says hopefully, when they're both mostly finished with gasping for air and relishing their pleasure. Joe lifts his head from Nicky's neck and looks at him adoringly, snorting with delight.

"As you wish," he replies, and the kiss he drops lands on Nicky's forehead, tender and sweet. “Mostly because I think I’m addicted to how they taste on your lips.” 

"My hero," Nicky smiles, perfectly breathless, watching Joe grin and blush as he climbs off to go and fetch more pancakes. Later they'll have to shower, change Joe's sheets and think about reality again, but for now they share the safety of the blankets and the sweetness of the syrupy pancakes and things are good.

**Author's Note:**

> a gift for the multimerse; my dearest feral fam.


End file.
